


You Saved Me

by hailsatanstyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Overdosing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailsatanstyles/pseuds/hailsatanstyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn deals with heartbreak the only way he knows how.</p><p>(Loosely based off of the song Wicked Games by The Weeknd)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Saved Me

In this exact moment, Zayn wishes to be anywhere but here.  More specifically, he wishes he never met Liam Payne.  Liam the uni student who studies video game design.  Liam with the understanding eyes, and gentle voice.  Liam who drove him to the hospital after he found Zayn overdosed, unconscious in his own vomit that one time last year.  Liam who keeps him warm at night because he perpetually shakes from the cold.  Liam who still puts up with Zayn’s crippling addictions after a year and six months.

 

If anything, Zayn just wishes he never let Liam fall in love with him in the first place.

 

His vision is fading in and out and his mind is stuck between a constant buzz of _You don’t deserve him_ , and the intense focus on the feeling of clenching and unclenching his fists.  Something whizzes by his head and shatters against the living room wall breaking up the monotony in his brain.

 

“Are you even fucking _listening_ to me?”  Liam accuses, as Zayn slowly takes in the shattered ashtray now littering the floor.  He liked that ashtray, he’d had it since Year 12 from the secondhand shop downtown.  “You’re on it right now, aren’t you?”

 

Blinking slowly he remembers that they’re in the middle of a fight.  “Don’t talk to me like that, Liam.” The statement lands flat, though Zayn’s face is contorted into a hurt grimace.  “I need you, please stop yelling.”  Zayn doesn’t remember that he’s the one who yelled first.   _There’s no food in the house, what the fuck are you even good for_.  He lowers himself onto the futon, and brings his sleeve up to wipe at his nose.  He’s not quite sure when he started crying, but he can faintly make out the warmth rolling down his gaunt cheeks.

 

“You know, Zayn, I wish I could believe you,” Liam chokes on the words and looks up at the water stained ceiling to will away his own tears, “but I’m quite sure all you need is your smack and coke.  You never needed me.”

 

They used to be happy.  Zayn can remember that and he strains every day to get back to the way they were before everything went to shite, but he can’t stay awake long enough to love Liam right, and he keeps sinking farther into himself.  “Y-You, you saved me though, Liam.  I do need you.  You take care of me properly, you love me…” Zayn is trembling and suddenly he feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room because he can see Liam reaching for his keys.  “I can’t be on my own.”

 

Liam faces Zayn, pressing his lips into a firm line, nodding his head like he’s getting up the nerve to tell him it’s over for good, “You know, you always tell me how I saved you.  I don’t think it’s true though.  You look like the walking dead, Zayn.  You might as well have died that night.  I don’t think I would even know the difference.”  Zayn reaches up to touch his face to reassure his existence, because for all he knows, he might be dead.  He was a shade and this surely had to be Hell.

 

“If you love me as much as you say, you’ll stop what you’re doing.  I physically can’t do this anymore; the lying, the fighting, you sneaking around with Niall like I don’t know what you’re doing, you’re fucking catatonic half the time.  I know you’re using, it’s not a bloody government secret.”  Liam’s cheeks are blotchy and his tears are stalling his speech, while Zayn grips at the crook of his arm like his own body betrayed his secret.  The words almost make him forget about the dull ache of where he shot up only a half hour ago.

 

He takes a shaky breath before backing up slowly towards the door, “It’s me or the drugs.  I’m s-so sorry to do this to you Zayn, but I _tried_.  I t-tried so hard.  I can’t sit here and watch you disappear anymore.”

 

Zayn doesn’t know how long he sits there staring at the door, waiting for Liam to come back and carry him off to their bed.  His body is aching in an uncomfortable fashion and Liam would normally wrap his arms around him until the need stopped.  They’d kiss until he fell asleep, so he’d forget to slip off to the bathroom to shoot up.  Liam was a distraction, a beautiful boy with a big heart, and Zayn broke him.  The realization that Liam wasn’t coming back for him washed over him, and something in Zayn snapped. 

 

He stood up in a trace-like state, and fished around in the kitchen cupboard for the remainder of the pain meds Liam had from when he tore his ACL playing footie with Zayn, and dry swallowed about five of the white pills.  They all seemed to blur together in his palm anyway, he could have taken twenty and he wouldn’t have known.  It was after that, he sank into the tub and called Liam’s cell number, praying he’d answer and come home.  Every ring swelled Zayn’s heart but then he was forwarded to voicemail, which meant Liam saw he was calling, but didn’t want anything to do with him.  That’s when the bottle of Jack, which Niall gave to him for his twentieth, was drained and smashed in the sink.  Self-medicating just wasn’t cutting it because his heart still felt like it was about to beat out of his chest, and he couldn’t stop crying even if he wanted to.

 

Liam’s phone goes to voicemail one last time before Zayn decides he needs to at least leave a message.  “I know I’ve messed up,” he slurs with his head lolling against the tiled wall of the bathroom.  “Please, Liam, I pick you.  I pick you, and I need you to come back to me.  I’ll quit everything if it means you’ll come home.” He knows how pathetic he sounds, but nothing compares to the shame he feels once he realizes later that Liam finally had an out, a good enough reason to leave Zayn, and he’d taken it and ran.

 

A flush of anger boils inside him, and he decides he’s going to stop crying, and he’s going to move the fuck on.  The club down the road seems as good a place as any to start searching for a disposable toy for the night.

  

-

 

The club lights are cutting through the smoke, which is hovering heavily in the air.  Zayn is leaning against the bar for lack of strength in the rest of his body, and knocks back another SoCo lime shot.  He’s not drinking to get drunk anymore, because for one, he’s already more than a bit plastered, and now he’s just killing time until he finds the perfect guy. 

 

-

 

Harry dips his head down into the crook of the shorter boy’s neck, mouthing against the skin there, “C’mon Lou, loosen up.”  He puts his hand on the small of Louis’ back and pulls him closer against his body, grinding to the music.  “Just want a little fun,” he reassures playfully.

 

“Fun?”  Louis questions with raised eyebrows.  “This is fun for you?”  He’s hardly grinding back, just gently moving his hips so Harry doesn’t look stupid dancing by himself. 

 

“We could go have different kinds of fun if you want.”  Harry suggests, giving a smile that’s by no means innocent.  He works his lips up the column of Louis exposed neck, nipping lightly at the skin, making sure he knows that Harry has needs that were intent on being satiated.

 

Louis is making needy noises in the back of his throat, but pushes him away.  “Harry, I told you-- We can’t do this.”  Harry’s eyebrows come together in a drunken question of _why not_.

 

Louis sighs and continues, explaining for the fiftieth time why that can’t just hookup even though they’re undeniably in love with each other.  “It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to Eleanor.”    

 

“No, Lou, it’s not fair to yourself that you can’t even admit you fucking _want me_.”  Louis opens his mouth to protest, but Harry cuts him off, “Don’t tell me you don’t, ‘cos I know it’s a bloody lie.”  He spits. 

 

“Get yourself sorted before you call me again.  I refuse to be the idiot here because I can admit I want this.”  Harry knows he’s struck a nerve with Louis, but he’s angry and he thinks he’s made his point.  He feels gullible and impossibly young, because how could he let himself be played by one of his friends.  Louis was straight.  Louis didn’t want him the way he wanted Louis.  Louis had a girlfriend.  But there was something in the back of Harry’s mind telling him that it was only a matter of time until they went past the friendly flirtations.  Oh god, how Harry wanted to break down Louis’ insecurities; but for now he settled for putting up walls of his own. 

 

There’s a smug looking boy with a dark complexion leaning against the bar staring right at him, that’s when Harry decides he doesn’t need Louis; he needs someone to pass the night with and the frail-dark haired boy seems like the perfect candidate. 

 

-

 

There’s a slim boy writhing his hips to the music against a less than impressed, slightly curvier boy.  Zayn almost has to do a double take to make sure it isn’t Liam, but then he remembers Liam hasn’t had hair like that for months now.  He shaved it all off once things started getting  bad between them. 

 

But his eyes are what really keep Zayn’s attention; they’re a startling green and almond shaped, and so very different from Liam’s.  That’s when he decides he’ll be taking him home, and the task will be that much easier, because he’s stormed off from the boy he’d been dancing with, and is heading straight for Zayn.

 

-

The green eyes are even more consuming up close, so when the boy enters Zayn’s personal space, the words are spilling out of his lips before he can contain them. “Can I help you?”  Playing hard to get wasn’t on Zayn’s list for the night until he was personally offended by the full mouth with obscene fruit punch coloring, that was within kissing distance.

 

The boy’s eyebrows knit together slightly, but he recovers and leans comfortably into Zayn’s body. “I’m Harry.”  He drawls slowly in his ear.  “Let’s dance, yeah?”

 

“Sure your boyfriend won’t mind?”  Zayn inquires with a quirked eyebrow, unable to help himself.  The shorter boy who was previously preoccupying Harry is nowhere to be found on the dance floor.

 

“Definitely not my boyfriend.”  Harry says defensively, roughly pulling on Zayn’s arm, and dragging him into the crowd of people.

 

“Whatever you say, mate.”  

 

Zayn finds it too easy to follow the mop of curls, warmth spreading through his body for the first time in weeks.

 

-

_Liam had curly brown hair that flopped messily in his eyes, when they go on their first actual date.   They spent hours lounging around Regents Park, where Liam taught Zayn how to do a handstand, and Zayn excitedly brought Liam to the zoo.  But the part of the day that Liam later admitted “sealed the deal” for him was the underground ride back to Zayn’s flat._

-

 

The vibrations of the music bring Zayn back into the moment and he wonders whose hands are roaming his body but he’s too faded to care honestly.  He’s okay with getting lost in the smoke right now; the music is swallowing him up and pulsing with his erratic heartbeat.  His head is lolling back and the smile on his face is far off, but his body is moving to the beat in a seductive way.  Hands grab his hips, pulling him tight to grind up against their crotch and _oh- Harry_.  Zayn almost forgot about the boy with the skintight jeans and tattoos peaking out of his white v-neck.  It was impossible to ignore the desperate grasps under his shirt, crawling against the sharp angles of his body, and the pressing need of Harry’s cock against his backside.  Harry is all hands and lips, surrounding Zayn in hot caresses.  That dumb fucking mouth has his skin blazing every time he bites at the exposed parts of Zayn, adding to the other bruises already littering his body. 

 

Zayn turns to face Harry, whose hair is plastered to his forehead and cheeks are flushed. “Let’s go back to my apartment, yeah?” he suggests, lips pressed against his ear, voice so velvety smooth against the sensitive skin there, that Harry’s whole body shudders.

“Definitely.” Harry rasps, letting Zayn lead the way through the bodies until they stumble into the crisp night air.

 

-

 

_They were sitting next to each other, the train jostling and knocking their knees together, and without fail, Liam would snicker every time it happened.  His eyes would squint but his face would be so openly happy that Zayn had to refrain from tangling his hands in Liam’s curly hair and kissing him just to stop the absolute sunshine radiating out of the other boy.  Suddenly he understood the scenes in movies where the main character bursts out into song about the person they’re in love with.  His heart skipped a beat every time the soft laughter fell from his lips and Zayn figured he had nothing to lose if he just took a leap of faith._

_“Hi, I’m Zayn,” he announced to the train car, standing up and gripping the pole to keep steady._

_Liam looked up at him curiously but didn’t tell him to_ sit down _, or stop embarrassing him, which was a good sign.  Everyone in the car was staring at him, interested to see what was breaking up a normally monotonous commute._

_“Uhm yeah,” he fumbled over his words, “the boy sitting right here, his name is Liam, and I think he’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met in my life.  And uh, if he doesn’t, or you know, you don’t mind, I’d like to dedicate a song to him?”_

_Liam’s cheeks are flushed but he’s grinning ear-to-ear, nodding his encouragement, while an old woman calls out “Go right ahead, love.”_

_“Right, yeah.”  Zayn’s trying not to focus on his sweaty palms and instead looks at Liam and shoots him a smirk before he starts in “_ Isn’t he lovely, isn’t he wonderful, isn’t he precious, truly the angel’s best, boy I’m so happy _…” His singing is cut off by Liam who yanks him into a kiss by his jacket collar.  The entire car erupts in applause as the train comes to a stop and the doors open.  Liam laces his fingers with Zayn’s and is pulling Zayn towards the doors.  Once they reach the platform, Zayn grins like a fool and captures Liam’s bottom lip between his in a gentle kiss.  “Race to the flat?”  Liam murmurs against his lips._

_“Definitely.”  He nods his encouragement, and they take off, running hand in hand through the streets while the rain pours down until they reach Zayn’s apartment._

 

-

 

Zayn slams Harry up against the door to his apartment, unable to keep his hands out of the soft curls, rutting up against his lithe body.  Their mouths are clashing painfully, and Zayn is swallowing Harry’s desperate moans.  Zayn slides his tongue against Harry’s, licking into his mouth in a determined fashion and cups Harry through his jeans.  He groans and leans his head back against the door, exposing his neck to Zayn’s already swollen lips.  “Wa-Wait,” Harry interjects, voice ragged as Zayn continues to lick and suck at the sensitive skin just under his jaw, “I don’t even know you’re name,” Harry gasps.

 

Suddenly Zayn’s overwhelmed by the notion that the person he’s kissing isn’t Liam and the thought pulls all the air out of his lungs.  Liam knows him, all his imperfections and problems.  Harry, Harry’s just some dumb kid who picked the wrong guy to go home with.  Soon enough he’ll know the corruption Zayn spreads like a plague.  The track marks, the scars, the sight of his collarbones sharply showing through his skin, as if his body is slowly concaving.  Soon enough, he’ll run away.  Liam and Harry are polar opposites, but that helps Zayn adjust and adapt to the lanky, green-eyed boy he’ll be spending the night with.  Liam doesn’t want him, so meaningless, rough sex with a stranger is his solution; it’s the only way he knows how to deal with heartbreak.

 

“My name is Zayn.”  He growls against Harry’s collarbone, biting down, making sure to push sweet, gentle Liam to the back of his mind. 

 

“Zayn.”  Harry rolls it over in his mouth a few times while Zayn unlocks the door, before allowing himself to be pushed inside the threshold.  

 

Between the two of them it’s a constant push and pull, drag into the crowd, lead into the bedroom; Harry needing to have his hands grasping at Zayn’s body, Zayn needing the roughness of something impersonal.  They’re both giving, but they’re both taking as well, each of them needing the distraction of mouths and jerking hips.

 

-

 

Harry can sense there’s something not quite right with the boy he went home with the second he stumbles into the flat.  Through his blurry vision he can tell that there’s shattered glass all over the floor by the window, and in the kitchen sink; clothes and picture frames are thrown into a huge pile by the coat rack.  Usually he’d have the right mind to at least ask what the fuck happened, but the alcohol, the tightness in his jeans, and the wolfish grin Zayn gives him, has him being led to the bedroom without any hesitation.  He can almost hear Louis in the back of his mind saying _Don’t do this, I’ll tell them all everything.  I need you._ But he knows Louis will never say those words, so with determined hands, he clicks the bedroom door shut and turns the lock. 

 

-

 

Harry takes control and shoves Zayn backward onto the bed.  He bounces slightly at the impact but braces himself on his elbows; admiring the devouring look the green-eyed boy gives him.  Zayn’s happy to be submissive because in all honesty he’s shaking too hard, and breathing too quickly to tell Harry what to do.  He needs a hit right fucking now.

 

“Some fun before the, you know, _fun_?” Harry suggests with a smirk and reaches his hand into his pocket, and Zayn thinks this guy just _gets him_.  He pulls out a one-hitter that looks like a cigarette and a dime bag filled with bud.  Zayn barks a laugh a Harry’s naivety and takes it from his hand, shaking his head. 

 

“Trust me, I’ve got something better.”  Zayn reassures him, going into his own jeans for his baggie. 

 

-

 

_“Zayn,” Liam is calling him from the bedroom extending the ‘ayn’ so he sounds like a whining child.  “C’mere.”_

_He walks into the bedroom and sees Liam sprawled lazily on the white duvet in his black boxer briefs, his tanned skin seems like miles of toned muscle, and even after being with Liam for six months, he still can’t believe he is his.  “Let’s have some fun, yeah?”  He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  The evening sun is glowing through the open blinds in parallel streams across the room, and Zayn wants nothing more than to curl up against Liam’s side and allow the rays of what’s left of the day to warm his body.  There’s an anxiousness boiling beneath his skin, thrumming through his blood.  Even though Liam is the picture of tranquility, waiting for Zayn to crawl across the soft covers until he end up in Liam’s lap, straddling him, tracing everything he loves about the boy with his tongue, kissing him till he knows he’s the best thing in Zayn’s life; the need is still there._

_“Sounds brilliant,” Zayn’s lips quirk up at the corner, “Just give me a minute.”_

_The bathroom is attached to their room, and he gently closes the door behind himself.  Leaning his hands against either side of the sink, he looks up at himself in the mirror and can see the tiredness in his eyes that has settled in his bones.  Zayn shoves his hand into his back pocket pulling out a baggie of coke.  He takes his finger in his mouth and wets the tip before dipping it into the powder so it’ll stick, and puts the yellow bag on the side of the sink._

_“Zayn.” Liam’s voice is hesitant behind him.   He hadn’t even heard the door open._

_Liam’s body is crowded up behind him, and he’s resting his chin on Zayn’s shoulder.  “Babe, you don’t need that.”  He turns on the faucet and takes his hand, running Zayn’s snowcapped fingertip under the stream of cool water, washing the powder down the drain.  He tugs at the corner of his grey tee that’s hanging loosely off of his body, and brings it up and over Zayn’s head.  Liam plants kisses from his shoulder, all the way up his neck until- “Come back to bed,” he murmurs against Zayn’s mouth, hot and moist, catching his bottom lip between his in a relaxing rhythm.  Zayn nods his agreement and flushes the rest of the baggie down the toilet._

_He figures he’s got the world at his feet, and he’d be stupid to throw it all away because of a thrumming in his veins, that’s fed only by a monster._

-

 

Harry’s a try-everything-once kind of guy, he’d messed with molly at clubs a few times, and one weekend he and his friends went out to his family bungalow and they dropped acid in the woods.  As soon as Zayn pulls out the baggie filled with white powder in it he knows what he’s in for.  He puts his hands on Zayn’s clothed thighs and spreads his legs apart, slinking to his knees in-between the space he opened up.

 

Zayn starts tracing his lips, and it’s the most gentle he’s been since Harry met him.  His eyes fall closed and he leans into the touch.  “Open wide,” Zayn invites softly, and Harry obeys.

 

-

 

Zayn traces his index finger along the contours of Harry’s fruit punch stained lips; he notes that they really are perfect, especially when Zayn knows that half the color and swelling had been thanks to him.  His eyes are closed and his head is titled back as Zayn finally drags his finger down so it catches slightly on Harry’s bottom lip.  “Open wide,” he coos, still afraid that he’ll scare the boy with the fiery touch.  Zayn will swear to his grave that he didn’t gasp as Harry swirled his tongue around his finger, sucking lightly with hollowed out cheeks.  He pulls his finger out with a small pop, Harry frowning slightly at the loss of touch, to dip it generously in the bag.  Zayn leans forward to be closer to Harry, letting him take his finger back into his mouth.  Harry hums contentedly, then licks strips up until he sucks down to Zayn’s knuckle, and Zayn’s head is fucking swimming just thinking of what kind of mess Harry will make him once they’re through. “Hope you like it.”  Harry nods with impossibly wide eyes looking up at Zayn through his lashes; he’s still working over Zayn’s index finger even though the powder was already gone and joining the blood pulsing through the boy’s veins. 

 

He works his spindly hands at the button of Zayn’s jeans, and releases his finger to stretch up and crush their lips in a violent fashion.  Harry’s all hands and flushed heat, and Zayn almost feels like he’s being attacked at all sides “It’s great.” His eyes are almost black, with only a slim ring of emerald around it.  Zayn dumps more than enough coke on the pad of his ring finger and brings it up to his right nostril, holding down the left, and inhales deeply.  It stopped stinging a long time ago, but the dryness in the back of his throat never goes away.  “You’re great.”   Harry rushes, dragging Zayn’s shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor, pushing Zayn onto his back.   “God, fucking-”

 

Zayn cringes, that’s it, he’ll leave now just like Liam.  Liam.  Why isn’t Liam here?  Zayn knows if Liam comes home and he has this random lad in their bed, it’ll be over for good.

 

“So fucking gorgeous.”  Harry continues, taking in Zayn’s tattoos and emaciated body.  He covers Zayn’s body with his own and begins sucking territorial bruises on his collarbone, working his way down to his hip, right next to his solid black heart tattoo.  Zayn’s skin feels like it’s being lit on fire at every which end, and suddenly he can’t breathe.

 

Harry stops and sits up, looking at him with worry, “Zayn?”

 

-

 

 _Zayn knows something’s wrong the second he sees the drops of blood on the shaggy seafoam green carpet of their bathroom.  They’re falling and sinking into the material, and he sees that before he feels his heart beat racing at an uncomfortable pace.  He’d speedballed before, but it never felt like this.  It mixed the mellow nature of the heroin with the high speed of the cocaine, it helped normalize Zayn’s behavior.   Normal people moved at a normal pace, and this made him normal.   He brought his hand up to his nose, and pulled away, his fingers slick with blood that was almost black.  “Fucking shit,_ shit _.”  Zayn hisses, starting to panic more and more._

_There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that he’s pushed it too far this time.  He tries sticking his fingers down his throat, to throw up anything he could, if that would help get it out of his system, to stop this from happening.  He retches murky bile into the tub, and collapses to the floor, his chest constricting.  Zayn’s stomach clenches repeatedly, forcing him to vomit on the carpet.  His eyes are closing and it’s getting harder and harder to keep them open between slow blinks._

_The last thing he remembers before he loses consiousness is Liam’s silhouette in the bathroom door calling his name with worry, but it’s too far away sounding for him to actually respond._

-

 

He’s gasping and choking and he knows this feeling all too well.  Sweat is dripping down his face, and rolls down his neck to pool where Harry had just been marking his skin.  “Zayn!  Should- Should I call an ambulance?  What’s wrong?  Say something, please!  Oh my god.”  Harry is shaking him and breathing heavily, trying to sort through his brain for something that would prove useful in this situation and he keeps coming up short.  As Harry’s ringing the ambulance and giving them the flat number, Zayn coughs so hard he rolls over to the edge of the bed to throw up on the wood floor.   

 

“The ambulance is on it’s way, Zayn, you’re- you’ll be okay.”  Harry’s muttering curses and prayers under his breath, trying to hold himself together as best he can.

 

“L-Liam.” He gasps out, “C-all Liam.”

 

“Right, okay, yeah, Liam.  Who’s Liam?  How do I call Liam?”  Harry’s pacing the floor, shaking his hair out of his eyes nervously, looking impossibly young.  “Your cell.”  He realizes and reaches into Zayn’s pocket for the phone.  Liam’s number is the under the most recent calls and Harry presses ‘send’ while Zayn splutters, trying to keep himself from choking on the sick that rises up.   

 

“Yeah!  No!  Come to Zayn’s, please, he’s in trouble.”  Harry hangs up the phone and starts to cry, sinking to the floor against the bed, waiting for this nightmare to be over.

 

-

 

Liam’s walking down the street in the direction of their apartment, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, the wind whipping at his cheeks.  Zayn had called multiple times, but Liam needed to be by himself for a while in order to sort through his options.  As he walked through the town, taking in the fresh air, he’d listened to the single message Zayn left and the broken plea became a litany in his mind: _Please, Liam, I pick you. I pick you, and I need you to come back to me.  I’ll quit everything if it means you’ll come home._   He decided that however much he was hurting, Zayn felt it tenfold, and he’d never get better if Liam up and left him at his weakest.  

 

He was around the block when his phone began vibrating in his back pocket.  The screen reads ‘Zayn’ with a picture of him grinning wide with squinty eyes as Liam’s plants a kiss on his cheek.  “Zayn?”  He asks, bumping into a woman as he turns the corner.

 

“Yes!” A raspy voice that definitely isn’t Zayn replies quickly,  “No!”  The boy corrects himself with a crack in his tone.  Liam’s heart sinks quickly and he starts running towards their flat.  “Come to Zayn’s, please, he’s in trouble.”

 

Liam can’t even think, as he bounds up the stairs to the third floor.  All he hopes is that he’s not too late.

 

-

 

Their apartment’s a disaster when he swings the door open, but it’s nothing compared to what he finds in the bedroom.  “Zayn?  Zayn!”  Liam rushes over to his limp form hanging halfway off the mattress, stepping around the puddle of sick on the floor; he can hear the sirens coming down the street.  “Babe, can you hear me?”  He’s touching his face softly trying to wake him up but his eyes aren’t opening.  “Zayn, please wake up, oh god.”  He can’t do this a second time.  He feels like the world might as well stop spinning, because if Zayn dies, he knows if he were here, if he didn’t leave him, this would have never happened.  Liam cannot cope with the possibility that he could lose one of the only people he ever loved.

 

A sob comes from the other side of the bed, and it’s the first time Liam realizes he and Zayn aren’t the only ones in the world, let alone the room.  He remembers the boy on the phone.  “What did he take?”  Liam demands, swiping the tears away from his own face.  The boy stands up, his hands are shaking so hard he can hardly shove them in his pockets, he can’t be older than nineteen, Liam notes.  “He- We-I don’t know, we took some- coke, yeah, coke.”

 

Liam runs his hand over his hair, “Fuck.”

 

“Pe-People do it all the time though, what’s going on.  Is he going to die, Liam?  I-I shouldn’t even be here.”

 

Liam turns to Zayn and presses his fingers against his neck to feel for a pulse as he hears the stomping of the EMT’s coming up the stairs and through the open door; it’s hardly noticeable, but it’s there.  He leans into his ear, hoping he can hear Liam somehow.  “I love you, Zayn.  Please, hang in there.”

 

-

 

That night he watches Harry (he’d learned the boy’s name was) get released from the hospital.  Thankfully he’d only been scared senseless, nothing harmful.  He was obligated to stay until the high wore off to be positive there was no serious damage. The boy who picks him up in the lobby shoves him hard in the shoulder before standing on his toes to kiss him.  Liam can’t hear what the shorter boy with the swooped fringe says, but it has Harry grinning from ear to ear, leaning down for another deeper kiss.

 

He watches them walk away, hand in hand, and is happy for them.  Liam only wishes he could be happy for himself.

 

-

 

Liam is rubbing circles into the back of Zayn’s hand when he finally wakes up.  He chokes loudly on the breathing tube, and Liam calls for a nurse to help.  The heart monitor is beating at a rapid pace and Zayn’s wearing a terrified expression, his eyes darting desperately around the room for something familiar.  “You’re okay, you’re okay.”  Liam reassures from the corner of the room as the doctors unhook Zayn from the unnecessary machines.

 

Once they’re alone again, Liam sits back in his chair unsure of what to say or how to say it.

 

“You were,” Liam starts, “uhm- you were in a coma for over a week.”  He reaches out to cup Zayn’s cheek just to reassure himself that this is real.

 

“I didn’t think you’d wake up.” He feels his throat tighten, threatening tears.  His lip quivers and he can’t hold it back anymore, he’s so relieved to be able to see Zayn’s hazel eyes, and watch his eyelashes sweep across his skin, and his tongue wet his lips.  Zayn’s awake, and he may not be perfect but he’s still Liam’s Zayn and that’s enough for him.

 

“I’m sorry, Liam.”  Zayn rasps, voice hoarse from being unused for so long.  He reaches up to wipe away Liam’s tears.  “I want to get better for you.”  His breathing is labored as he tries to say everything he needs.  “You deserve better, and I’m going to try.”

 

A bubble of laughter comes up and out of Liam, just because he’s so happy to hear Zayn’s voice, so happy to hear he’ll try to fix the broken parts and hopefully let Liam help.  He leans his forehead against Zayn’s and closes his eyes, content to stay like this forever.

 

“You know, you saved me.”  Zayn whispers.

 

Liam smiles and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, “I’ll always save you.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in the One Direction fandom. I hope you liked it. Check out my blog: craicandsunshine.tumblr.com


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